


Moonlight

by prairiecrow



Series: Lethe's Curse [10]
Category: ReBoot (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fights, Flirting, Hermaphrodites, Intersexuality, Jealousy, Love/Hate, M/M, Memory Alteration, Politics, high society - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-30
Updated: 2012-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-06 08:38:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/416910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To Megabyte, it's all part of the political game. To Bob, it's flirting - and how is he supposed to react except by getting jealous?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Takes place on the world of Lethe, where Bob and Megabyte awoke stripped of their memories, formed an alliance of convenience — and found themselves, one day, profoundly physically changed.   
> 2) This story is set a few weeks after "Unknown".   
> 3) In the Lethe!verse a clear distinction is made between bedmates (sex without deep attachment), lovers (sex + emotional devotion), the engaged (mandos), and the married (ligos), so when any of those terms are employed in this series they're used with those specific cultural meanings in mind.  
> 4) A picture of Megabyte and Bob at this point in the chronology: http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v189/crowdog66/lethebobmegabyte-1.jpg  
> 5) The picture this fic is based on: http://prairiecrow.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d4zgfot

As disgruntled as he was currently feeling, Bob had to admit two things: that the Lord Torval ar Tervas Denhilde served excellent wine at his well-attended parties, and that the conjunction of Lethe's two moons over the towers of Cestiala was a sight that made retreating to the balcony almost worth the irritation that had brought him out here in the first place.

Propping one booted foot upon the low lip of stone that fronted the terrace, he rested his elbows on the ornately carved balustrade and cradled his finely crafted glass of exquisite S'harva red in one hand, and let his gaze drift across the vast moonlit cityscape. His first view of the capital city of Omalan had been from the Eastern High Road in the sunset of a dark winter day, but even under those less-than-ideal viewing conditions he had been impressed by its soaring spires and expanses of urban greenery, and by the pastel tones that had shone so clearly even in that sullen light. By the twinned illumination of H'ras and N'sar it was no less impressive, its elegant contours expressing a sophistication of art and culture that concealed seething political tensions…

… which were, in large part, the fault of the "man" Bob was so annoyed with at this moment. Megabyte had scarcely cast a glance in Bob's direction when the sprite had finally decided he'd had enough of watching his viral companion smile and flatter and play politics with the various lords and councillors that crowded the ballroom Denhilde had reserved for the evening — and the final straw had been Lady Carnelia aj Teota V'resla, more specifically the way Megabyte had greeted her with a flash of silver teeth and a silky laugh when she'd sidled up to him and curved her hand possessively around his upper arm, her grey eyes gleaming up at him with the avaricious gaze of a hungry snake. Bob had made it very clear to Megabyte in the past that he hadn't appreciated her overtly lustful attentions from the first time she'd tried to put the moves on the _catlana_ -turned-warlord, and Megabyte had smoothed his ruffled feathers with eloquent reassurances that he had no interest in the curvaceous young lady who was the niece of his worst enemy on the Grand Council… but he never seemed inclined to repel her none-too-subtle advances, and tonight was no exception.

Bob had given Megabyte one silent glare, curtly excused himself from the circle of conversation, and set off for the balcony with a stiff back and brisk stride that was, he thought, far more eloquent than any hiss or yell would have been. And now he was out here alone, looking up at the Twin Moons and doing a slow burn that the beauty of the early summer night was easing but not entirely quenching. 

 _Lying, conniving, two-faced, backstabbing…_ But the muttered litany of mental imprecations was competing with memories brought back by the spectacle in the night sky: the last time he had seen such a conjunction, eight days after Midwinter — and had awakened in the middle of the night to gaze at his own reflection in a moonlit mirror and see a face that he didn't entirely know: still azure-skinned and topped by a shock of dishevelled silver locks, but sharper-featured and more foxlike, with clear amber eyes full of shock and dismay. 

And then another light had entered the reflection over his shoulder, two familiar half-circles of glowing virulent green with crimson embers shining in their depths — and Bob had turned, and looked up, and realized that he wasn't the only one whose face and form had been altered by the arcane influence of Lethe's satellites. Gazing at those arrogant features that were at once so profoundly different and so fundamentally the same, Bob remembered feeling amazed all over again… and moved to his core in a way that it had taken him weeks to understand and even more time to accept. 

But accept it he had, and now here he was, nursing his second glass of wine of the evening and telling himself that he had no reason to feel jealous, nope, none at all, Megabyte was just being Megabyte and greasing the political wheels in any way he could get away with, since "She Who Slays By Stealth" wielded enough clout in the Court to make her worth having on his side… 

_Yeah, maybe, but he didn't have to smile at her like that. And he sure as hell didn't have to lean toward her that way and incline his head at her when she —_

A footfall on the deck behind him, the unmistakable muted ring of metal on stone, carried over the babble of conversation from within the ballroom and alerted Bob to the fact that he was no longer alone. He didn't look round even when the virus's steps, deceptively light for something so heavy, came right up beside him and a long-fingered right hand curved around his waist, followed by a friendly inquiry: "Enjoying the view?"

Bob took a sullen sip of his wine. "A lot more than the one inside, that's for sure."

Megabyte chuckled and set his own glass of wine — also the crimson vintage of S'harva's sun-drenched fields — down on the stone railing to his left. Clearly he was settling in for a long stay. "Yes, you've made that _abundantly_ clear. I'm surprised you didn't simply throw your glass of wine in her face and be done with it."

"You would've liked that, wouldn't you?" He made no effort to keep the smouldering accusation out of his voice. "A chance to comfort a screaming, weeping woman in front of Lord Denhilde and his cronies… yeah, let's just say I didn't feel like doing you any favours."

"Nor have you," Megabyte replied, a sterner note replacing his amusement. "Your little tantrum was painfully obvious to everybody in the room, and it did me no credit whatsoever."

"You're welcome." Another sip of wine. "And don't expect me to feel too sorry for you — for one thing, I'm not your child, and for another, I'm pretty damned sure you'll find a way to turn it to your advantage."

"True, but I _am_ your elder — and as my younger lover, your conduct is considered a reflection of my —"

"Your what? Your authority over me?" Bob scowled, his voice sinking to a dangerous mutter. "We've had this conversation before, remember? And it didn't end well then either."

"Bob." He knew that tone too well — the coaxing purr, soft and seductive, that concealed a steel fist beneath the velvet finish. Megabyte's fingers tightened against his waist, revealing the slightest warning extension of his claws. "I'm not asking for the Gorshan Sea… all I ask is that you behave in a civilized manner when we attend —"

Bob snorted and glanced away over the cityscape below. "Oh, great — now you're calling me an uncultured lout!"

Megabyte chuckled, sounding amiable once more… but there were the claws, of course. "And I must say you're living up to the name admirably well."

"Yeah, and you're flirting like a —" He bit back the comparison that came to mind, which had something to do with the ladies-for-hire who strolled Cestiala's Appian Way and would likely have turned this barely civil exchange into a firestorm of acrimony — and that was if Megabyte was in a good mood. Instead he shook his head and, with a shallow sigh, set aside his own glass to his right so that he could turn his full attention to the sharply contoured face gazing intently down at him. "Look, I know it's all part of the game for you. I get that. But do you have to do it every time she's in the same room with us?"

Megabyte's glowing eyes narrowed, and his approach turned startlingly blunt: "Tell me, do you truly believe for a second that I'm seriously interested in her?"

"I… no! Of course not."

"Or that I'm interested in anybody other than you, for that matter?"

Bob gave that a couple more seconds thought, mentally running through a long list of possibilities and swiftly rejecting them all. "No, but —"

"And as you've said, it _is_ 'part of the game'. Carnelia has something I want, Bob: influence over a significant portion of the younger nobility."

"She blackmails them or threatens to slip a dose of poison into their food, you mean."

Megabyte made a dismissive gesture with his left hand before returning it to elegant rest on the railing. "The details are irrelevant. What matters is that she and I have come to an understanding: my attentions please her, while meaning absolutely nothing to me. Nor should they mean a whit more to you, my _iroja_." His hand slid down to Bob's hip and settled there, heavy and warm even through its thin sheath of flexible armour as he leaned a little closer to murmur in an intimate tone that barely carried over the multiple conversations from the party behind them: "Although I must say that I find your little fits of jealousy most entertaining."

Bob grinned up at him, suddenly in a much better mood. That term — _iroja_ — had reminded him of the legend behind it: of the immortal God of Night, Navarro, who had loved a mortal man named Iroja and, when his lover died, had turned his beloved into a constellation among the summer stars. Megabyte had made him figure out its meaning just as he'd made Bob puzzle out so much about their relationship, and Bob couldn't help but feel a warm and somewhat ridiculous glow of pleasure whenever he heard the endearment. And Megabyte knew it, damn him! "Even when I embarrass you?" he teased.

The virus uttered a refined little snort of his own. "Oh, please! You know very well that I don't embarrass."

"Okay, when I irritate you, then."

"'Irritating' would have been you throwing wine all over the Lady V'resla's unfortunately hued dress. I suppose I really should thank you for sparing me the effort of smoothing over _that_ particular social _faux pas_."

"Like I said: You're welcome." He slipped his arm around Megabyte's slender waist and leaned closer, settling his left hand on the ridge of the virus's hip and sharing a warmer gaze with him before turning his attention back to the dazzling moons overhead that lay, at this moment, within the pattern of bright stars that memorialized a dark God's doomed love. "Remember the last time we saw something like that?"

"How could I possibly forget?" He was smiling faintly now, in a way that suggested some secret satisfaction. "It was the night that changed everything."

"Well… maybe not everything."

"True. Your essential nature remained unaltered, as did mine."

Bob nodded. "I remember looking up at you and feeling a hot shock go all the way through me. You became… I don't know, more attainable, somehow. You weren't as untouchable as before…"

"Oh, I was. It was the nature of your desire that changed."

"Considering that you'd suddenly gained — well, both..." Bob's smile turned hot with insinuation. "C'mon, Megabyte — don't try to lie your way out of this one. Admit it: you wanted to be touched, just as much as I did."

Megabyte didn't answer the question — not directly, at any rate. "And tell me, would you welcome another change of form?"

"Not if I can keep you in this format." He turned toward Megabyte a little more and, with his right hand, lightly traced the contoured segments of his armoured ribs, studying the cunning way they interlaced. "I like the way you're built — so many different shapes, fitted together so neatly." His smile widened and grew sly as he cast a glance upward from beneath lowered silver lashes. "Like you're a puzzle box made just for me."

Megabyte laughed softly and leaned in closer, his half-hooded eyes full of moonlight thinly reflected over their own uncanny glow. "Yes… I suspect you've always enjoyed a challenge."

"I'm with you, aren't I?" A flash of colour caught out of the corner of his left eye — a gown of unmistakeable fuchsia with embellishments of silver and gold embroidery, tightly wrapped around a well-rounded female form — made his grin turn wicked, and he reached up to curve his right hand around Megabyte's long jaw and draw him down into a kiss that was slow, thorough and deliciously lingering. 

When they finally parted the virus's gaze flicked to his right for a fraction of a second, acknowledging the presence of their silent observer, before returning to Bob's face with gloating and distinctly sexual intensity. "I do believe I'm starting to rub off on you…"

"Oh?"

"Or else you're in a particularly vindictive mood this evening."

Another quick glance revealed that the Lady V'resla had disappeared back into the press of expensively dressed party guests, no doubt with an almost audible flounce. "Let's call it 'defending my territory' — something you of all people should be able to appreciate." He let his hand trail down the virus's throat and chest, taking great satisfaction in the prospect that an envious gaze might still be glaring at them. "C'mon, let's go back to your place and give her something to be really jealous about."

The evil quality of Megabyte's smirk sent a thrill down Bob's spine, familiar yet ever-new. "I suppose that for tonight I can afford to offend aj Teota — so long as I don't make a habit of it, you understand."

"I understand that I'm going to —" And he leaned up to murmur something against the side of Megabyte's scarlet crest where it joined his jaw that would have surely made even the jaded Lady V'resla flush as bright a pink as her dress. "And that you're going to love every minute of it. Come on, _navaro_ , and let's really make this a night to remember…"

Megabyte smiled and took him back into the exquisitely dressed collection of Cestiala's most highly born, still holding him close to his side with unspoken but clear possessiveness. Neither of them spared any attention for Carnelia aj Teota V'resla as they bid a courteous goodnight to their host and took their leave, arm in arm. Only when they were at the door did Megabyte glance back and nod pleasantly to someone in the crowd, but Bob didn't particularly care who that person might be. He was confident now that even in the midst of glittering high society, a milieu where he was woefully deficient in all the hallmarks that distinguished a truly successful politician and nobleman, he possessed a quality that nobody else could emulate: he held the interest of the Immortal Lord in every way that mattered. The time would come when Megabyte's games would annoy him again, and they would argue about it again, but for tonight…

… tonight they shone among the stars in their own private sky, their orbits in perfect alignment, with a radiance of light and darkness conjoined that no other configuration could rival. And even so far above the ground Bob found himself feeling perfectly secure, as if the embrace of the God of Night would bear him to the heavens and never, ever let him fall.

THE END


End file.
